


A Betting Man and Seer

by HPendle



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: And terrible awful no good stag-do shirt, Attempt at Humor, Fluff and Humor, Gen, Marijuana, Past Hermione Granger/Ron Weasley, Ron Weasley is a Good Friend, Stag Nights & Bachelor Parties, Wedding Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-19
Updated: 2018-12-19
Packaged: 2019-09-22 17:41:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,585
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17064206
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HPendle/pseuds/HPendle
Summary: George's stag-do was not going the way Ron thought it was going to go.[one-shot]





	A Betting Man and Seer

**Birmingham; New Year's Eve, 2003**

**Time: 9 PM**

 

He **never** called him by his name. 

Oh, Ron had never expected to be on a first-name basis with the greasy git that was Snape, but he would call _everyone_ else by their names. Well, their last names, unless it was his dad and his mum, and Mrs. McGonagall, and the like. Everyone else was _Potter_ , _Granger_ , _Longbottom_ …

Well, he did call Ginny "Ginevra". Bill and Charlie were _William_ and _Charles_. And he did address George and Fleur by their names. And the children, he'd call _them_ by their first names, too.

Whatever. The point was that he only got a nod from him. He wasn't even _Weasley_ anymore, just a tight little fucking nod. The worst part is that Ron cared about that shit.

The greasy, scary bastard.

Why did George even invite him to his stag-do anyway?

Angelina and George were finally getting married. They had decided on having their last hurrahs as relatively-single-people on the same day and the same place: Muggle Birmingham's city centre on New Year's Eve. The men started on one end, and the women on other; they were due to meet halfway. The reasoning for the time and place was simple: plenty of clubs and pubs, which meant plenty of alcohol. 

Their starting place was a pub called Snobs. They were all wearing garish neon-yellow shirts with bold, black letters that said

 **GEORGE'S ADVANCE GUARD**  
**NYE 2003**  

None of the shirts, in the least bit, favoured any of the men. It certainly made the Weasley men look ashen. At least Harry thought the slogan chosen was hilarious.

Since Bill was the best man, he and George got to wear ridiculous tri-corn hats with a lining the same colour as their shirts. It looked like an odd cross between American Revolutionary and road labourer clothing. 

Well, they certainly wouldn't be losing each other in the crowd.

There had been a big fucking thing of Snape and Hermione reappearing for the big Weasley-Potter-Tonks Christmas dinner the previous week, for the first time in several years. He had missed it, as he'd spent the day with Nora's family. This was the first time he'd seen him since the five year anniversary of the victory of the Battle of Hogwarts. He still had very short hair and a surly face, but seemed somehow softer.

George introduced Snape bombastically the second he stepped into Snobs, as he had with everyone else. Snape went around shaking everyone's hand. Harry gave him a tight hug and clapped him on the back - was that a smile? Snape was _smiling_? At _Harry_? Even Neville seemed to be glad to see the teacher who was his boggart ten years ago.

Ron still didn't like him one bit.

As discreetly as Ronald Weasley could manage to be, he motioned at George to meet him outside. That's when the discussion started.

It was actually very hard for him to stay on subject, as George had fashioned bandages to match his tricorn hat: black with the safety vest-coloured lining. He had long ago mastered a glamour spell to cover his hole and eventually just didn't care. But, then again, this was George Weasley.

"Alright, Ron?" George smiled broadly.

"No, actually, I have a question. What the fuck, George?"

"Hey, I ran the slogan by Harry first. I'm not that big a bellend - "

"You invited _him_!"

"Of course I did, he's my mate. He's _your_ best mate," George looked genuinely confused. Ron sighed with exasperation.

"Not Harry, you prick. _Him_. The … " Ron motioned wildly, unable to say _his_ name, so instead he just pantomimed a bat badly by flapping his arms. George looked genuinely amused.

"Jeez, Ronnie, have you been at the canary creams?"

"NO! I'm a - fucksakes! The bloody … Potions … master!" 

"Oh. Oh! Snape! Yeah, I invited Snape. I mean, does he seem like much of a party crasher to you? Never thought he would be the type, to be honest."

"So that's why he's here. Because you invited him."

"Yes, Ron. I invited Snape to my own stag-do. As the stag, I get to choose who to invite, and so, I invited Snape. What of it?" George said very slowly, not sure if he should be worried about his younger brother enough to send him home.

"You invited _Professor_ Snape." Ron said dumbfoundedly. George nodded. "But he - he was a Death Eater! He killed Dumbledore! _He maimed you_! You've got no ear be - "

"And I took up with Fred's girlfriend in the room we shared before we were even done choosing the robes for his burial. Look, Ron, you know Snape's history. Yes, you well fucking do, you saw the memories and you read the letters! The war did all of us in and he's no exception. He's asked all of us for forgiveness and he's done his best to make amends. He can't change some things, no, but he's done a world of good for us. He lived, for some reason, and today he's here because he's trying to _live_. The man deserves a chance to live. I'm not the one that gets to decide that he doesn't deserve it." George paused for air, visibly upset.

Then, the coup de grace: "Besides, if Fred knew all of this, you know he would agree with me. He would want him here. Hell, I think he would have invited him along himself just for the laugh, honestly."

Ron hated it when George was right. He had never seen his older brother look so … _wise._ The older Weasley finally clapped a hand on Ron's back. "What do you say we go back in, get really drunk with our old Potions master, and have a jolly fucking strange time?"

 

*******

**Time: somewhere around midnight**

 

And so, they went, and got drunk with their old Potions master, and they had a jolly fucking strange time. The End. Only, not quite. 

Objectively, it wasn't that strange, and no one was that drunk yet. Snape was engrossed in conversation with Bill and Charlie about … who the fuck knows involving curses and dragons and potions. Ron did notice Snape had only had one drink since joining them, making him the second most sober of the bunch.

Unless you counted Percy, but no one ever really did during these things.

The stag-do was due to meet the hen-do in a garish Irish pub shortly before midnight, so snogs could be exchanged - George's idea.

It was just five minutes to the hour when they spotted the women, wearing more sensibly-toned shirts (Angelina wearing a cream-white shirt; the rest, a soft dusty pink that looked good even on Ginny). Angelina practically launched herself into George's arms, clearly drunk, but still bubbly with happiness. So did Ginny and Fleur with their respective partners; Audrey was a bit more demure as she hugged Percy.

Ron did a double-take as Nora surprised him with a sloppy kiss on the cheek. "I missed you," he had a soppy grin to match his wife's as he pulled her in for a kiss. Damned be midnight, they could kiss again then.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Snape mouthing something to Hermione. Whatever it was, she looked relieved and nodded eagerly in reply. Then, they walked out the pub.

The countdown came and went. Snogs were snogged. Rounds were ordered. And after swigging his pint of lager a bit too quickly, Ron needed air. Okay, he needed a fag.

"Want to come with?" he held Nora's hand with a goofy grin.

"Oh, Ron, but you know I hate the smell of smoke," she complained, but still kissed him. "You go have your fag, babes, I'll wait here."

And so, Ron tried not to stumble outside the pub. He palmed his chest and arse, looking for his lighter _where's my_ _lighter this was the jacket with the spare lighters no pulling out my wand where the **fuck** did I leave the lighter oh here we are_ -

He noticed them, but they didn't notice him. And they would have noticed a drunk ginger bloke with a cigarette dangling from his mouth, doing what appeared to be a badly choreographed Macarena. Truly, anyone would have

As if on slow motion, he watched Hermione and Snape, out in the cold, talking like old friends. Whatever it was they were talking about, it must have been a riot because they burst out laughing - Snape was _laughing_? Snape was _making_ Mione laugh? - and suddenly  - 

One of Snape's long fingers was gently touching the skin under her eye. He showed her his fingertip with a broad, warm smile - Snape _smiling at Hermione_ , who was grinning as she closed her eyes and blew whatever was on his finger away.

 _Snape had noticed a stray eyelash on Hermione,_ **_and_ ** _he took it off of her, and then she_ **_blew_ ** _on it?_

At that moment, blessedly, the rest of the group came out because it was time to carry on. For a moment, he forgot all about that bizarre scene while holding Nora in his arms. 

"See you back at home later?"  
  
"Don't drink too much," she whispered in his ear with bubbly, drunken giggles before a final kiss.

They hugged quickly before the parties split again. "Oh, don't forget to eat something, if you'll be drinking," Hermione waved at Snape, who smiled and waved at her, as she joined the hen-do party and they walked off in different directions.

Ron's mouth and eyes widened in shock.

 _Goodness damned mercy_ **_fucking_ ** _-_

 

*******

 

**Time: too old for this shit**

 

"You're shagging Mione," Ron blurted out the second Snape stood near him at the bar to order a drink. Or tried to, anyway, because instead the Potions master stared at him like he'd gone and grown a fucking horn on the middle of his forehead.

"I beg your pardon?"

"Hermione. There is some-something clearly going on. Between you and her. You too must be - "

Snape's face looked at him like he was being impertinent in the middle of a Potions lesson. Probably because he was being impertinent. "Be very, _very_ careful about what you will be saying next. Granger is a lady, and more importantly, you are supposed to be her friend." His voice was silky and deep, and the voice of a man who was **really** pissed off.

Ron's better judgement told him to apologise and then, preferably, offer to buy Snape a drink before getting the fuck out of there as fast as he could. Ron's better judgement was also gagged, tied up, and locked in a small cupboard. Tied up very, very tightly. In a very, very small cupboard.

"Okay, maybe not … _that_. I'm just saying, the way she's looking at you's … special. She never looked at me like that, you know, and we did - " he was interrupted by Snape clearing his throat loudly. That was his cue to shut up.

"Granger and I are _friends_. I don't know what gave you the impression that our relationship is of a different nature," Snape sneered.

Ron held up one finger - was it two? No, just the one, curse his wobbly sight - as he listed on. "Number one, you're all chummy with her. You are not a man that chums. Number two, I saw you hugging her. You are not a man that hugs. Number three, the eyelash thing. No one does that, except for sappy couples. I know this because Lavender Brown tried it on me," he said smugly and had another swig of his pint.

"Mercy me, I will sleep soundly later tonight, with this proof of the fine intelligence training our Auror forces receive," Snape finished his drink, set it on the bar, and motioned to the bartender for another refill. Clearly, tonight was a night in which he would need to be just slightly intoxicated to put up with his sloshed, nosy former student.

"Why don't you like me?" Ron blurted out.

"I … don't … not like you," Snape said uneasily - there it was again, that look on his face, as if the invisible horn growing on Ron's forehead had turned into a dildo.

"Is it because I was with Mione?" 

"What!? Merlin, what gives you this impression? We just haven't … talked enough … and neither of us really wants to."

"Yes, but is that because I was Mione's boyfriend?" Ron pressed and set his empty pint down. Snape groaned in exasperation. 

"Ugh. No, boy, it's not because of that. But I dislike that you were a bit of a fucking tosser to her, if you must know," the older wizard shot him a dirty look. Ron's drunk flush met the embarrassment flush right up to his ears.

"Yeah … I did apologise to her. She's alright. It just wasn't the right time for either of us, you know? She couldn't … I mean, the situation with her parents was all … and then there was Fred's death. I don't hold it against her anymore, we just didn't know how to … " in a heartbeat, before Snape's eyes, the redhead had gone from inquisitorial to maudlin.

With a resigned sigh, Snape downed his drink and grabbed Ron's empty pint glass. He came back with a refill for him, and a pint of water that he pushed towards Ron.

 _Fucking Gryffindors_ , Snape thought grimly as he started on his third double whiskey.

 

*******

 

**Time: ???**

 

Another whiskey for Snape (single, this time), and two pints of water, one pint of lager, and several bathroom trips later for Ron, they had moved on to tequila. They were still not on a first-name basis, or any-name basis. 

To his credit, Snape had tried to explain the proper way of drinking the light gold spirit. He just never got around to it because Ron clinked glasses with him and downed it in one gulp. "Shit," he hissed. "This stuff _burns_!"

"I tried to warn you," Snape sighed.

Snape had also not yet admitted to sha _\- being involved_ with Hermione. Ron was beginning to think this was true, but he knew there was still more to the story. He was also at the point were the floor seemed to have a life of its own.

"So, you and Hermione are _not_ dating," Ron started.

"Oh, here we fucking go again. Seriously, mate, we don't need to _talk_ ," Snape groaned. Was it him, or was Snape sounding more and more … _Northern_ , the more he drank?

"Yes, I never give up on a case! You and Hermione aren't dating. But you are chummy, and you hug, and you laugh and smile a lot when you're around her. All these, things we never saw you do with anyone else, ever." Ron scrunched his face as if that would help him squeeze out of his brain a shred of clarity, in the middle of his brother's quite boozy stag-do.

Then it dawned on Ron. Enlightenment, brought to him by Don Julio, took a solid five minutes: "you have a thing for her, don't you?"

Snape looked like a deer caught in headlights, and it was not a pretty sight, by far. "Shit, you do! You fancy Mione and it's bad!" Ron whispered, slurring his words.

Both looked at each other in a dumbstruck silence. Snape sighed before he finally spoke. "I'm old enough to be her father. And she's … she's an amazing woman, Granger. She's better off with someone … younger, more whole, better," he said quietly, voice thick with sadness and spirits, staring into his shot glass. Ron rolled his eyes at the maudlin.

"Oh, please. I saw the way she looked at you, you know. You'll be married and all within five years."

"Gods, of course not."

"No, no. I can see it: before five years, you and Mione will be married. And you'll be having babies. Like, at least … six," Ron held up five fingers. Snape couldn't tell they were five fingers, he just believed in Ron. A sign that Snape was beyond his limits was that he was believing in Ron, sober or drunk, at all.

Severus scoffed and rubbed his temple. "Christ, lad, that will never happen. I _hate_ children, if you recall. Granger would never look my way, anyway."

"Pffft. Let's bet on it, then. You and Hermione, married within five years. What are we betting?"

"Will you quit it - "

"A Galleon?"

"If you think I'm crass enough to bet - "

" _Five_ Galleons!"

"Seriously, it's never going to happen. Let it go."

"Ten! Ten Galleons. That's my final offer. I am not letting this go."

Snape pinched the bridge of his nose. Clearly, the young man was not about to give up. And Snape liked his headaches _after_ doing the drinking, not before, so he gave up. He said with a very cross voice, hoping it would get Ron off his back, "fine. Fine. Ten Galleons it is, then. I marry Granger before five years and you win. I don't, you lose."

"You know, we could up it to twenty. I'm _that_ sure that you and Mione will get together real soon. You'll see."

"I never took you for a betting man, Weasley," Snape said dryly, tipping the tumbler back to his lips.

Ron couldn't help that he looked like the happiest man on Earth. Finally, _fucking finally,_ Snape had acknowledged him by his name!

Alright, so it had been his last name.

It still was better recognition than that asshole little nod of his. _And_ he was going to win ten Galleons … at some point in the future.

"That's me, Ronald Bilius Weasley: betting man and Seer."

 

*******

 

**Time: all that matters is that they will regret this in the morning**

 

He wasn't sure if it was the unusual excess of alcohol (he wasn't much for the stuff), the spliffs Neville had been passing around (and that he'd been all too keen to partake on), or if he had come down with a very sudden case of a massive brain tumour that induced hallucinations.

But Harry was pretty sure that he was watching Ron and Snape, both quite drunk, talking and laughing and doing _shots_ together.

"I mean, you're seeing it too, right?" he tapped George on the shoulder. George's eyes widened and he blinked hard once, twice, three times - no, still there, his brother and their former professor _were_ doing shots together.

"This is real, then? Shit, I thought I was beginning to see things."

"Honestly, mate, I don't know what would be worse." George rubbed his eyes.

"Yeah, that's already happened twice. I think they had tequila, by the looks of it," Charlie laughed. He was nursing the fifth Long Island tea he'd stolen from Percy, but he looked like he could be herding belligerent dragons without a problem.

Fuck Charlie.

 

* * *

 

**The Burrow; December 28, 2005**

 

"If I may? I'd like to say a few words."

The air filled with some curiosity and a pinch of dread - as it's wont to happen when a man wants to make a toast during his ex girlfriend's wedding.

Ron cleared his throat and stared at his goblet, still unsure of what to say. Everyone was so quiet, he could hear the hum of the air.

"I've known Hermione since our first year at Hogwarts. And … well, I didn't like her at first, she was insufferable. Actually, I don't think we liked each other, at all." _That should be a good a start to a toast as any, right?_  

"But eventually … she became one of the most important people in my life. She's there - she's always there when you need her, even when she isn't doing well. She does her best, always. And she's brave, and funny. She's the person you want to have next to you when you're in a crisis. Blimey, she once told me I had the emotional range of a teaspoon, and she's probably right," he waited until everyone was done laughing and saw Mione's doe-like eyes fill with tears, "but if I have the range of a tablespoon now, that's thanks to her."

Ron swallowed, blinking away the stinging in his own eyes. "I guess what I'm trying to say is that I love her -  like a sister -  and I'm very glad she's found happiness with Pro - Sev - _Snape_. That they've found happiness together. They're perfect for each other."

This was true. He still thought Snape was somewhat scary and too sarcastic and looked a bit like an overgrown crow in mid-molt. But he had never seen his friend happier, and it was all thanks to Snape.  Ron didn't have to become Snape's friend or even like him; but for this, he respected him.

"Right, cheers to the happy couple! Here's to the gorgeous bride!" Ron lifted his goblet to a handful of _hear, hears_ and clapping. Even Snape laughed and lifted his goblet at him. Hermione's cheeks were pink and she kept dabbing at her eyes, but she was all smiles. Bride and groom shared a kiss, and Ron smiled. They _were_ good together.

"And to the groom," Ron grinned as he lifted his goblet again, "I hope you didn't forget our bet, because it looks like you owe me ten Galleons!"

There was laughter; the loudest coming from George and Harry, who had been told about the bet during the worst hangover of their lives. Apparently, no amount of alcohol would ever erase the memory of having witnessed a once-in-a-lifetime scene in a stoned haze two years ago: Ron Weasley and Severus Snape clinking shot glasses and drinking to each other's health.

**Author's Note:**

> I have been forced into taking sick leave (bronchitis + team of >5 = workplace FUBAR), which means I get to work on as many plot bunnies and non-fiction writing as my eyes can handle.
> 
> I wanted to write a bit of a love letter to Birmingham, which I've grown so fond of and miss terribly, even if my Northerner's pride will never ever acknowledge it as the Second City. Sadly, my first time there was until 2008 so do forgive any inaccuracies!
> 
> And a trope so prevalent in many Snamione fiction - Ronald Weasley as a horrible person - was beginning to chafe, so I thought: what if I wrote something where Ron isn't a bad guy? Where ex-partners can remain friends in a healthy relationship? And here we are, I guess.
> 
> Again: thank you for reading this. I hope you find it entertaining. <3


End file.
